


Eye for an Eye

by tacitly



Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, F/F, allusion to delphine/cosima
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-29 07:51:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3888286
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tacitly/pseuds/tacitly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set sometime between the initial meeting with Ferdinand and the last meeting with Ferdinand. Delphine is not convinced of Sarah's ability to play the part convincingly; Sarah attempts to prove herself, and gets more than she bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eye for an Eye

“What were you thinking?” Delphine hissed through gritted teeth. “I told you I would handle Hele—“ 

“She’s my _sister_. I can’t afford to take any chances.”

 Delphine sighed, running her fingers up her forehead and through her hair. “No, Sarah, _we_ can’t afford to take any chances. But you’ve gone and done it anyway, haven’t you?”

She watched Sarah’s reflection in the long mirror of Rachel’s dresser, growing irritated that she was still idly playing with the bangs of her wig instead of respecting the conversation enough to have it face to face. But of course it was just like her to be cavalier about this, Delphine thought bitterly. 

“Jesus, Delphine, enough with the ‘we’s. This is my problem and I’ll handle it, okay?” Sarah replied,  exasperated.

“On the contrary, I don’t think you have any idea what you’ve gotten yourself into. You don’t seem to understand how dangerous this man is. Do you even know what Rachel was to him?” 

A bitter laugh. “I think I’ve got the idea, yeah.” 

 “And you have no problem putting on a show of it?” Delphine’s voice rose, incredulous and betraying more than a hint of disgust. Surely Sarah knew Rachel well enough to have some understanding of what that relationship must have entailed. 

“What choice do I have?” The other woman snapped in response.

The two of them grew quiet, each taking in the gravity of the situation. 

There was certainly no other way out of this now, not after they had dug themselves this far into the grave. ( _After_ Sarah _had dug them into it, Delphine amended)._ And did Cosima know about this? It would have been one thing, maybe, if Sarah were doing this on her own. But if she heard that Sarah was doing this under her watch…

“We can only hope you’re convincing, then,” She let out suddenly, mostly to distract from her ruminations. 

But the echo of malice was not lost on Sarah, who finally paused from toying with the wig in the mirror and turned to face the other woman. “You seemed to find my Cosima pretty convincing,” she challenged.

Delphine did not find this amusing.

Her eyes narrowed, and as if on instinct, she moved towards Sarah threateningly. “This is not a joke, Sarah. Don’t delude yourself into thinking Rachel and her… _games_ … will be an easy performance.”

Sarah startled, caught off guard by the sudden closeness. Delphine watched a corner of her smile drop as she struggled to hide her unease. But in the next moment, Sarah’s unnaturally red-lipped smile had reconstructed itself into a tight line. 

 “You flatter me, Dr. Cormier.” A flat, languid voice. 

 It was Rachel’s voice, so distinctly Rachel’s voice that Delphine found herself unconsciously drawing away. What was Sarah playing at, putting on a show of it now? “This is hardly the time,” Delphine said sharply. 

 But Sarah, seemingly spurred on, was already closing the distance between them again. There was the faintest trace of a smile on her face. She looked on the verge of laughter, ready to break character at any moment. 

“My…” she drawled, taking a piece of Delphine’s hair between her thumb and her forefinger, “you’ve even straightened your hair in my fashion. Why don’t you play the part instead? I hear you’re not above bedroom games—“

“Excuse me?”

Delphine glowered down at the other woman, who looked up from the strand of hair in her hand to catch Delphine’s eyes. 

“Dr. Leekie?”

  _Aldous,_ Delphine corrected to herself silently, and watched the woman in front of her return for an instant to Sarah. _Rachel called him Aldous._  

The tension in her chest softened, and she felt as if the blind rage building in her had all at once subsided with this careless misstep (though how could Sarah have known what Rachel called him? And, really, that was just exactly what made this whole mess of a plan with Ferdinand so precarious—these little details). She noticed the tiny fringe, untidy and completely out of character for Rachel, sticking to Sarah’s forehead. 

_Dr. Leekie._

The name repeated itself stubbornly in her head. And finally, it occurred to her that she had missed what Sarah had been trying to say. 

But how—?

“How do you—?”

A clenching pain in her chest took her by surprise. _Of course she would tell Sarah,_ she thought, trying to hold back the resentment that she knew Cosima didn’t deserve. 

“Do you always make a habit of sleeping with your superiors?” Sarah drawled, still affecting Rachel’s voice, instead of answering. She let the strand of hair she had been fiddling with fall from her hand, and moved to trace her fingertip down the Frenchwoman’s clavicle. 

At this suggestion, Delphine seized the woman’s wrist suddenly and tightly. The force of it sent Sarah staggering backwards, wincing as her back hitting the ceiling-length window behind her; Delphine, now aflame with fury, was quick to close in.

“What game do you think you’re playing?” A loud, angry whisper.

Squirming slightly, Sarah tried in vain to release her wrist. “Tell me about Helsinki.”

Her voice was steady; it was Sarah’s rather than Rachel’s. She glared up at Delphine defiantly, though for a moment Delphine could see the confidence in her eyes flicker. She looked so small, even in Rachel’s heels… 

“No.”

“Then I’ll tell Cosima.” Rachel’s voice again. “I’m sure she’d be very interested to hear—“

“To hear what? You have nothing to tell.”

Without warning, Sarah jerked her wrist backwards, the force of it sending Delphine, who had been holding it in a vice-grip, almost toppling over the other woman. 

“Don’t I?” She whispered. “I don’t suppose you’ve already told her about _us…”_

It was a dangerous bluff, and in all likelihood, Sarah hadn’t even counted on being right. She had probably figured it would have been enough to provoke the woman with what she had assumed to be an outrageous—yet offensive—accusation. And in a less emotionally charged state, Delphine would have been able to see it for just that: a taunt. 

Instead, Delphine felt her heart stop.  

“I’ve no idea what you mean.” 

—Is what she meant to say. 

But what came out instead was a deep, quiet voice that threatened: “Don’t push me, Sarah.” 

She could feel her grip on reality fading with how much effort it took to spit out the last word— _Sarah._ ( _Sarah, Sarah,_ she reminded herself, twirling the name on her tongue silently). 

But the name felt like a lie when it was Rachel’s face that sneered back at her. And It was Rachel, for all intents and purposes, who blinked her bored eyes at the woman’s lips and leaned in dangerously close. 

Which is why, she justified to herself later, over and over again, she had kissed her. 

She felt soft mumbling against her lips as she kissed the other woman deeply, and hands (two hands—when had she dropped her wrist?) pressed against her chest, fingers bent oddly, squished between their two bodies. 

It was shameless, she knew, as she moved her hand up the other woman’s thigh. When Rachel had touched her, she had shuddered under her fingers. Her skin had felt cold. 

But she had never touched Rachel. 

(And she remembered the one time she had tried. “Get your filthy hands off of me,” Rachel had said, voice dripping with anger, after slapping her across the face.)

Things were different now. Rachel was not the same person she once was, Delphine thought to herself smugly, working her fingers under the woman’s lace underwear. _Oh how the mighty have fallen._ And it would take years for Delphine to look into Cosima’s face and not see that trace of Rachel in her eyes, years for her to overcome the resentment that lay in this secret. But now Rachel was nothing. Sarah had seen that she was effectively stripped of her position, and now Delphine would see to it that Rachel suffer as she had. 

_An eye for an eye,_ she thought. She felt as if she were in a daze. There was breathing against her ear, heavy and warm. _Delphine, Delphine…_ a voice gasped, and she laughed in response. And then the voice said:

“…Cosima…” 

Her laughter stopped. Her fingers stopped. 

Rachel’s makeup was all smeared, lipstick on her chin, mascara dripping, and her small fringe was out of place. 

Small fringe that Rachel never had.

Delphine drew away, horrified. It was not Rachel’s face, not Rachel’s scared eyes, that stared back at her.

“I- I’m so sorry,” her voice trembled, and then fell into a whisper, “…Please don’t tell Cosima.”

Sarah wiped the sweat from her forehead. Her face was pale, and her hands shook as she straightened out her dress. She left the request unanswered, and turned away, pretending to preoccupied with readjusting the wig in the window. 

After minutes of silence, she said, “I suppose I can handle Ferdinand, then.” 

Delphine winced inwardly. She couldn’t bring herself to laugh. 

“Come on,” Sarah said, “I’m not cracking jokes just for your benefit, you know.” 

“I— I know… I…” 

Sarah let out a long sigh, still facing the window. “What happened…?” Her voice half incredulous, half pitying. “What did she do to you?” 

But pity was the one thing Delphine could never handle. Resentment boiled under her skin despite everything.

“Ferdinand will be here shortly,” she said, quietly. “Excuse me.” 

 The apartment door opened, and before Sarah could say another word, Delphine was gone. 

She poured herself a glass of whiskey, the bottle shaking in her hand, and drank it in three gulps. There was a knock at the door. 

The man let himself in.


End file.
